The Courage of a Cousland
by Kyra Renee
Summary: Wounded and alone she must continue on in hopes of finding her companions-of finding him. The Landsmeet has been called and the treaties fulfilled but Loghain will not go down without more bloodshed. She is their only hope at overthrowing him; their only hope of survival. The fate of Ferelden lies in her hands and her courage is the only thing she has on her side.
1. Chapter 1

Pain shot through her entire body and she felt disappointment bubble up in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't dead; death wasn't this painful. If she wasn't dead it meant that she had survived and though she knew she should feel grateful she couldn't manage to find any gratitude anywhere.

She groaned as her dark eyes flickered open. The only light was the last few rays of dusk fading behind the thick trees. It had been light when she had lost consciousness which meant that she had been laying there for hours. It was a miracle nothing had found her broken body. Surely the Blight Wolves and Darkspawn were out and about. But there was only eerie silence and an ominous chill in the air. No cry of the Blight Wolf pierced the silence and the stench of the Darkspawn was nowhere to be found. She was safe; for now.

She watched as the leaves of the sylvan trees rustled above her and she sucked in a deep breath and cringed as another jolt of pain nearly pushed all the air right back out of her lungs in a vicious hiss. She really had taken quite the tumble. She wondered what else on her body was suffering as she focused on moving first her toes, then her fingers and eventually she shifted her right leg. So far everything seemed to be in working order and she managed to move her left leg with little more than a wince of discomfort. Her arms obeyed as well and she soon pushed herself into a sitting position.

A quick survey of her surroundings told her that she had fallen deep into a ravine and a glance upward confirmed just that. She could see where the ledge was, could picture herself standing too near as the Darkspawn charged her, knocking her down as well as itself. She searched for the Hurlock and found it lying stone still several feet away. _Serve the damn thing right_, she thought bitterly.

Her eyes moved back up the ravine wall and she squinted into the approaching darkness. If she had been unconscious for hours what had happened to her companions? Had no one come to look for her? Had no one noticed her missing? Had they even survived the ambush themselves?

The last thought made her sick to her stomach and she shook her head as if hoping to shake the thoughts away. Of course they had survived. They had found their way out of tighter situations before. A Darkspawn ambush could not stop them. They were a formidable force.

Her bow and arrow lay just out of reach and she decided that now would be a good time to stand up and get moving. The longer she sat, the more dangerous it became. Darkness would be upon her soon and while she was a force to be reckoned with in the company of others, she would surely be overpowered on her own.

It took more effort than necessary to haul herself to her feet and she swayed, throwing out a hand to steady herself against the cold rock of the ravine wall. She clutched at her side and pulled her hand away after a few seconds, studying the sticky red substance on her fingers.

"Damn," She frowned and stumbled forward, fumbling for her bow and arrow and slung them over her back. She had nothing to dress her wound with and she loosened her Dalish armor as much as she could to make herself more comfortable. Though every step she took made it feel like her side was being torn open repeatedly and it took everything she had to bite her tongue and not cry out.

Her breath formed small clouds in the air as the sun disappeared entirely as she kept close to the trees, keeping her movements small and as quiet as possible. Her father had trained her to be a stealthy fighter, but it was difficult to accomplish with so many aches and pains.

She wanted to sit and rest or to sleep the night away, but she knew that falling asleep now would be dangerous. Either someone – or something – would find her or she had a sickening feeling that she wouldn't be waking up from her next slumber.

Grey Warden or not, she was still only human and the fall had taken a terrible toll on her body. She refused to die alone and she was determined to find her companions or at least die trying.

She stumbled on a tree root and the tree groaned in protest. Her hands flew out to brace herself against the hard ground but her arms buckled and she toppled to the leaves and rolled onto her side.

She had never been one for tears or for giving up, but her options were slowly dwindling as was her hope of making it out of this forest. She had heard not a single sound except the sound of her own ragged breathing. Perhaps they had moved onto Denerim in preparation for the Landsmeet and were expecting her to join them. Or perhaps they had abandoned all hope that she had managed to survive such a terrible fall. Not even Alistair had enough faith to believe that she had lived. The thought of the grief on his face made her heart ache and she wished for nothing more than to reach out and touch him, to tell him all the things she had been holding back for all this time.

"_You are a Cousland, Elena_," She jumped at the unexpected voice shattering the silence and she searched the darkness wildly, but there was nothing. The voice inside her own head and she closed her eyes after breathing a sigh of relief.

"_You were born to do great things,"_ Her father's voice rang loud and clear in her ears and she sighed, frowning.

"I can take no more of this, Father. I have done all I can do," She answered into the darkness, her voice sounded foreign to her own ears and her throat ached from the effort.

"_You are giving up,"_ The disappointment in his tone struck her and she rolled onto her back, her hand pressed against her side once more.

"I am accepting death and failure," She said definitely, opening her eyes and staring up into the glaring face of the moon.

"_There is still much left for you to do. Have faith in yourself, Pup, as I have faith in you,"_ She felt her eyes stinging with tears. So much had happened in so little time and she was still struggling to grasp it all. They had sought out the Dalish, the Dwarves and the Circle of Magi. They had restored order when the rest of the world was still falling apart. She had never been given proper time to grieve for the fall of Castle Cousland and her kin.

"I have no faith in anything anymore," She said finally, her voice trembling. "I hate this. I hate what I've become, what I've been asked to do. I hate that I had to lose everything because of this stupid Blight," She hardly realized she had been shouting and the howl of the Blight Wolf echoing in the distance chilled her to the bone. She wished she could howl right along with it, to add her own mournful cry to his.

She waited for a response from her father, but there came nothing and she was once again left feeling empty and alone though she was less depressed about her inevitable death. The cold was more bearable and the chorus of howls became strangely comforting. She studied her blood covered hand for a moment longer and dropped it to her side.

"I'm sorry," She breathed, hoping her apology would be carried with the wind and reach her friends. At least Alistair should know that she was sorry that she had failed him. He had counted on her the most and she had let him down and she would never be able to tell that to him; would never be able to tell him that she loved him and that she had been blessed by the Maker to have ever met him.

The tears spilled effortlessly down her cheeks. She had always pictured dying nobly in the jaws of the Archdemon, not forgotten in the woods. None of it had ever been for the fame and glory, but for only doing what was right and what had to be done. It was her duty to defend Ferelden. She supposed she had done well to save those she could along the way, but she could have done more. She hated the idea of dying with so many regrets.

She watched the shadows move above her and blinked as they began to move together and she was unable to tell where one ended and the other began.

"Alistair," The sound of his name was sweet against her lips and she smiled as she felt herself slowly slipping out of consciousness. "Forgive…me…"


	2. Chapter 2

"We've been looking for hours. We have scoured this ravine from top to bottom several times over and she isn't here. She's gone, Alistair. Perhaps the Darkspawn dragged her off," Morrigan let out a sigh of irritation and placed her hands on her hips as she eyed him coolly.

"There is still hope," Leliana said sharply, narrowing her eyes at Morrigan. "If there is no body then no one can truly say what has happened to her."

"I hate to be the voice of reason here, but… it seems like… maybe the witch is right," Zevran suggested reluctantly, clearly ignoring the harsh glare being thrown his direction by Morrigan.

"I think we should—" Wynne began to offer her opinion, but was silenced immediately by the look on Alistair's face. The conflict waging within him was exhausting and he turned his back on them without a word and lowered himself to one knee beneath a tree, his chin tucked close to his chest.

The pain was unbearable and he couldn't decide if he wanted to scream and cry or yell and curse the Maker himself. Rather than doing either, he remained silent and allowed his friends to bicker and debate behind him.

Part of him knew that looking for her was foolish and that no person could survive a fall that big. His eyes traveled up the length of the ravine and his stomach churned. He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat and took a deep breath to steady his insides. He had watched her fall; watched the shock barely register on her face as she tumbled over the side. He had been unable to save her and once again he wished that it had been him that had been dealt the misfortunate hand, not her.

The firm hand on his shoulder startled him and he looked up slowly into the unreadable face on the Qunari. He had been silent throughout the entire ordeal and for once raised no complaint and refrained from urging them to pursue the task at hand rather than dilly dally around. Alistair wasn't sure, but he was certain that Sten was offering him sympathy, "It is getting late. You can see nothing in the dark."

"Sten is right," Wynne added as she raised a hand to rub at her forehead. "We can accomplish nothing in the dark. Perhaps we will have a better chance at first light."

His eyes swept over their face and he studied each one for a moment before nodding and rising to his feet. "Then we set up camp. Here," He left no room for argument and no one seemed eager to jump on the chance to disobey him as they got to work readying the space for that night.

Without a word to any of them he turned away once more and disappeared into the darkness to sulk on his own. He tipped his head back and stared blankly at the sky as if searching the stars for an answer. But they offered him nothing and blinked at him mockingly.

"Why her?" He asked into the darkness. "Why not me? Why is it never me?" His booming voice echoed off of the trees and bounced back at him, his own voice was deafening to his ears. He felt as though he were breaking in two and as if part of him had been lost. There was no way he could manage all of this on his own. Being the _only_ Grey Warden would not be an easy task, especially when he knew little more than she had about their journey.

He raked a hand through his hair and looked away from the stars, unable to bear their mockery any longer. Instead, he watched the fire that Sten and Zevran had created dance upon the trees and contort their shadows. He was mesmerized by the flames and was pulled from it only by the single howl of a Blight Wolf. It pierced him like a knife and he turned his head sharply in the direction of the sound.

"I know you're out there, Elena. But where did you go?"

As if in response, the Blight Wolf howled again and this time several more joined in.


	3. Chapter 3

Her body was stiff from lying for so long on the cold ground and this time, her limbs did not respond so willingly to her commands. Her legs protested any movements and she groaned as she opened her eyes, blinking into the sunlight that filtered through the trees above.

"Still not dead," She murmured to herself as she managed to lift an arm and rub at her forehead. She knew she was caked with dirt and dried blood and probably looked like a complete mess. Elena cared nothing for her looks, but she wondered if cleaning herself up would take away some of the aches and the pains.

She wiggled her toes again in her boots and was glad to find that they still obeyed. With much effort, she pushed herself into a sitting position and pushed some loose hair from her face. She studied her hands and frowned at the many cuts on them. Her tanned skin was coated with dirt and sweat and blood that belonged to both her and the Darkspawn.

Her hand moved tentatively to the gash at her side and breathed a small sigh of relief as she pulled her hand away clean. At least the bleeding had stopped. Perhaps she would live to see yet another day.

Now, she just needed to get her legs working and she cringed and let out a small cry as her muscles worked against her. "Damn it all," She hissed out the words and used her aching arms to pull herself against the trunk of a tree. She loosened her boots and yanked them off. She set them to the side and rubbed at her sore feet and traveled the length of her calf. Her fingers trembled and she scanned the woods in the early morning light.

As she continued to massage and work at her sore muscles, she listened to the birds overhead and the rustling of sleeves as creatures scurried from one bush to the other. The rush of water in the distance caught her attention and she paused, straining her ears in an attempt to judge the distance. It sounded far, but not too far. It was reasonable and all she needed to do was walk there.

"I can do this. I know I can," She repeated those two sentences over and over several times as she inhaled deeply and used the tree to pull herself to her feet. She was unsteady and she took her time in reaching down and grabbing her boots. Elena decided it was better to take her chances in bare feet rather than stomp around in boots at the moment.

The ground was unforgiving beneath her feet and she wiggled her toes with a small smile as she pressed forward and headed to the water. The idea of washing the blood from her skin fueled her and she prayed to the Maker that this would also help clear her clouded head.

She could smell the crisp water before she even neared it and despite her injuries, she picked up the pace and fell to her knees on the bank of the stream. The water was crystal clear and she blinked at her reflection for several long minutes before dropping her shoes to the ground and shedding her armor without a single glance around her. There was no doubt in her mind that she was alone here and she let the cold water pour over her skin.

She washed the dirt and mud from her arms and legs and scrubbed furiously at her long hair before rubbing water over her face. Her last obstacle was the wound at her side and she saw it clearly for the first time. The skin surrounding the gash was red and puffy and there was no doubt that it would grow infected if not treated soon. The gash was at least five inches long and an inch and a half deep and she was amazed at how easily it had closed. Elena washed the blood away gingerly and sucked in a deep breath as the water cleaned out as much of the wound as possible.

She stepped from the water and didn't even bother to let herself dry entirely as she forced herself back into her armor and stuffed her feet back into her boots. With her bow and arrow slung over her shoulder once more before following the length of the winding stream with her eyes. She knew the way to Denerim and perhaps she should just head there without waiting. Eamon was expecting them and if none of her other—No. She would meet them there. They had to be waiting for her.

The clouds in her head had dispersed and she adjusted her bow on her back and set her jaw. She would go to Denerim. She had no choice.


	4. Chapter 4

Dawn broke through the trees and Alistair welcomed it with open arms as he roused his companions. He was eager to move, but not eager to hear their mutterings about doing so. Surprisingly, not even Morrigan opened her mouth as they stretched out their stiff limbs and gathered their equipment.

"We keep looking," He instructed flatly and they nodded. The determination on Sten's face struck him as odd, but he didn't question it for now.

"I think it would be wiser for us to split up," Leliana suggested sheepishly. Alistair stared at her, considering the suggestion carefully. They could certainly cover more ground if they should part ways and so he nodded after a moment.

"Sten, take Wynne and Leliana and go north," He pointed. "Zevran, you take east. Morrigan, take the west and I'll head south. We meet back here at midday," He waited no longer before turning sharply on his heel and heading south.

His feet felt like lead as he walked and he didn't even bother to glance over his shoulder to know that his comrades had fanned out to cover the forest. Alistair knew that none were as determined as he was to find Elena. He hadn't been able to so much as close his eyes the night before; afraid that he would miss something and afraid that he would be faced with nightmares far more terrifying than an Archdemon.

He scanned the tree line and every small movement caught his attention. He barely paid any attention to where he was walking. He had no true destination, not unless Elena would be there waiting for him. There were so many things they still had left to do and so many things he still needed to say, but none of it would matter anymore if she was gone. But he refused to believe that.

He paused beside a stream and squatted down, his eyes staring down unseeingly into the clear water. "Elena…" He breathed her name and sighed in defeat. "I can't do this without you. If there is a Maker out there, can He give me a sign? Anything to know that what I'm doing hasn't been a waste?"

He waited in silence and laughed when nothing happened. Of course nothing would happen. He was being ridiculous. The Maker didn't waste his time helping poor unfortunate souls like him when so many other things were at stake.

Alistair stood and turned to leave the stream when something caught his eye. The objet glittered in the sunlight and he raised an eyebrow and bent down to pull it from the mud. He wiped the surface off and turned it over in his hand. The band was small and made of gold and he vividly remembered Elena showing it to him once; a bracelet from her mother. It was a trinket she would never leave behind and it gave him hope. She had been here. At some point, she had been in the same spot.

His heart skipped a beat and he clutched the bracelet tightly as he scanned the area thoroughly for anything else that may give him a clue as to where she went. But there was nothing else. At least he had something and he glanced momentarily towards the sky. "Thank you," It was the least he could do as he all but ran back to their meeting spot.

He could feel the blood pumping through his veins as he watched them slowly drag themselves back, their eyes sweeping over his face and they exchanged looks with one another.

"We found nothing," Zevran was the first to speak and he stood back as if afraid this would send Alistair into another one of his moods, but he nodded solemnly.

"I did," He held out the bracelet and they stared at the thing in wonder. "Elena's," He clarified as he closed his hand around it once more. "She's alive."

"So where do we look now?" Leliana sounded hopeful and Alistair hesitated. He had no clue, but if he knew Elena as well as he thought, then there was only one place she would go.

"We look in Denerim."


	5. Chapter 5

It was not an easy journey to Denerim, but it was easier to skirt around potential ambushes and other foes when one was alone. Her body ached less from her wounds and more from the endless walking, but the gash in her side never ceased to stop troubling her. It slowed her progress tremendously but she pushed on. Her only motivation was knowing that Alistair could be—would be—waiting for her there.

The towering buildings were a welcomed sight and the tension left her shoulders as she made her way carefully into the city. Loghain had eyes in every corner and Elena kept her eyes down, hoping that no one would take the time to pay her any mind. They were looking for two Grey Wardens and a band of companions, not a lone and injured woman.

She passed through the bustling marketplace and stopped to take a look around. Several soldiers stood guarding the gates to Arl Eamon's estate and she considered going to him and asking for some care, but decided against it. She touched her side carefully and frowned. She could hold out a little while longer. The Darkspawn blade spread its effects much slower on her than should any other person suffer from its cut.

Elena made her way to the Gnawed Noble Tavern and pushed through the door. She recognized several of the faces but none bothered to glance in her direction. Heads were bent low in hushed discussion while others ranted on, gesticulating wildly as they did so. She could see it written on every face; they supported Loghain.

She felt her heart sink as she crossed the threshold and made her way slowly to the bar, waving away the bartender as he hovered by her, waiting for her to order. But she had little coin on her and would rather save what she had for an emergency. Though she was incredibly thirsty and could use something to dull the ache in her bones.

"…just about all of Ferelden has fallen. But Loghain only has eyes for the here and now. He cares not for the destruction of trivial places like Loethering."

Elena stole a glance at the two men huddled over their drinks at the bar. The man that had just spoken was wearing a deep frown and his dark hair fell into his eyes. He lifted his head and sighed and Elena was unable to stop herself from staring. His face was familiar and it struck something in the back of her skull.

"If only things had gone better at Ostagar…" He trailed off and picked up his mug before tipping it back and draining it. The man beside him shook his head sympathetically.

Ostagar! She recognized him now and she sidled closer, looking down at her hands. She felt his eyes on her and she turned her head to look at him and searched his face as she waited for the recognition to set it.

"You! You're a—"

"Keep your voice down," She snapped, glancing around. "The whole place is swarming with Loghain supporters. Lest you want me dead, you'll watch what you say."

"The Grey Warden," He finished in awe, his voice barely a whisper. "I fought with you at Ostagar. I saw what happened. I thought you dead by now," He sounded relieved. "Arl Eamon has called a Landsmeet."

"I know," She nodded and rubbed at her temple. "I suspect it to be happening soon, yes?"

"Tomorrow," He clarified and she nodded again. "Wasn't there another Grey Warden with you?" He scanned the room as if hoping to find him hidden amongst the other patrons.

"There was. We became separated. I am hoping to find him soon; he and a few others. They should be here," She looked around too, but there was no sign of any of them and her heart sunk a little more. "We're still wanted for treason and a number of other things. Loghain will not rest until more blood has been shed."

The man nodded and shifted so he could lean against the counter more. "You look like you've been on the road from days."

Elena smiled wryly at him, "I have. We were ambushed from Darkspawn and I fell down the side of the ravine. I'm lucky I'm alive. I came straight to Denerim, hoping to find my friends but I've yet to see them. It is difficult to hide a Qunari among the people of Denerim," She said with a soft chuckle. Despite all of her bickering with Sten, she would be delighted to see him.

"A Qunari?" He sounded stunned. "Maker, you travel with some colorful characters," He shook his head. "I can keep a look out for them."

She nodded in thanks and glanced around once more. "If you're offering help I could use it in other ways as well," She said, lowering her voice even more.

"If it's got anything to do with overthrowing Loghain… you can count on me."

"I need to get into the Landsmeet tomorrow and I need to stay well hidden until then."

The man considered this for a moment and rubbed at the scruff growing on his chin. "I think I can help you with both of those," His grin was infectious and Elena mirrored it with one of her own. Coming to Denerim had been a good idea, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

He ran through the gates without hesitation, making no effort to be inconspicuous. His eyes scanned the faces in the crowd wildly and once he thought he saw her and made to head towards her when Zevran caught hold of his arm. The elf had a strong grip and it took Alistair by surprise as he shrugged it off.

"We are in enemy territory now," Zevran reminded him evenly and Alistair opened his mouth to protest before closing it tightly and nodding.

Zevran was right, they were the enemy here and cornering innocent and unsuspecting women would only draw unwanted attention. Even if that woman was Elena, he couldn't cause a scene right here in the middle of the city.

"We need to find Eamon," Perhaps Elena had the same idea, but something told him otherwise. However, it was the only lead they had and the bracelet burned hot against his chest. He had tucked it beneath his armor for safe keeping, hoping to return it to her the moment he had the chance.

"C'mon," He nodded forward and they moved through the marketplace as quickly and quietly as possible, Arl Eamon's estate growing larger as they approached. They would be safe behind those walls, at least for the time being. But it would be enough for Alistair to breathe a sigh of relief.

He felt as though their every movements were being watched and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His eyes swept across the faces once more, but none looks suspicious and none looked out of place. Refugees had spilled into the city as well as other travelers and merchants alike. Perhaps it was not that difficult to blend in among the crowd, after all.

He was eager to speak to Eamon, to press him for any news of Elena and of the Landsmeet. By the looks of it, the noblemen had found their way to Denerim and since they were all flocking about in large groups that the Landsmeet was being held that day. It gave him some hope that perhaps they could still make this work in their favor. They had arrived on time.

He had grown too comfortable and too oblivious as they walked, but the roar of surprise from Sten caused him to stop and do an about-face.

Five men were wrestling the Quanri to the ground while a dozen more men fell upon his other comrades, drowning out their cries of surprise with shouts of their own.

Wynne surrendered quickly as Leliana cried out in alarm as a solder caught her by the arm that had reached for her dagger. He twisted it around sharply and she fell to her knees, unable to struggle back without exerting too much energy. Morrigan had a quick advantage and was able to slow down three advancing men with a burst of flames before two soldiers grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms down tightly. Though she kicked and screeched, they held her fast.

He exchanged a glance with Zevran and the elf nodded once as they were overpowered, neither making any effort to struggle against their captors.

"Wondered when you would come snooping around. Teyrn Loghain will be very pleased to see you," The voice was rough and cackled from somewhere above Alistair and he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes just before the boot connected with his temple and the world and all its noise fell away.


	7. Chapter 7

Elena was lucky she hadn't worn a hole through the floorboards with her constant pacing and the man, whom she learned to be named Tomas, looked up with a small sigh of irritation. "You're making me nervous will all your pacing," He said as he continued wiping down the blade of his sword.

She stopped with a small frown and slumped against the wall instead, following the movements of his hands with her eyes. It was fascinating and intimate and she felt her face flush as she forced herself to look away.

"You handle your sword like you would handle a woman," She said, clearing her throat.

He chuckled and paused to consider her observation before nodding. "I guess you can say that. Do you not handle your bow as you would handle a man?" He questioned, arching a dark eyebrow as he studied her.

Her flicked over to the bow propped up against the opposite wall and she fell silent. Her bow had been gifted to her by her father only a few days before Rendon Howe betrayed him. It was an early gift for her birthday and she had cherished the bow and quiver tremendously. But it had soon lost its importance and had become just another weapon.

She looked down at her fingers and shook her head. "I have never been with a man in that way," She began. "But I suppose that I do not treat my bow as I should. I use it to kill, nothing more. It was important to me once and it should still be. But things are not the same as they once were."

"If you ever wish to master your weapon then you will learn to love it as one loves another person. You will be tender and rough, caring and unforgiving," He stood up and dropped the dirty cloth to the ground and sheathed the blade. "Are you ready, Elena?"

She nodded and he stepped forward, producing a rope from his belt and binding her hands loosely. "Do you remember the plan?" She asked nervously, bouncing from one foot to the other. She had known him for only a day and while she had no others to trust, she still could not trust him entirely. He was a stranger, but something about him put her at ease.

He nodded. "I take you to the door, announce that I have captured the Grey Warden, we take care of them and then we're free to roam about as we please. Relax. I will not forget or lead you astray. My friends were slain at Ostagar as well as yours."

She nodded and remained still as he slipped the bow and the quiver of arrows over her, adjusting them on her back. "You may need your weapon," He added with a small smile before pushing the door open of the abandoned shack and ushering her out into the street.

They walked through Denerim in silence, past the Gnawed Noble Tavern and straight to the massive doors. "You should've let someone take a look at your wound," Tomas said quietly. "Should things get bad in there it may slow you down."

She pressed her lips into a thin line, the pain had nearly been forgotten and replaced by the twisting and turning of her stomach until he had brought it up. Her nerves eased up and was replaced with a fresh wave of pain and she swayed on her feet, his strong grip on her arm the only thing keeping her from toppling over.

"Steady. Here we go," He set his jaw as they approached and the guards stepped towards them.

"Who goes there?" One guard asked as he stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"I have brought in the Grey Warden," Tomas said firmly, shoving Elena forward roughly. She stumbled and gave him a hard look as she tried to pull her arm away, but he gave it a yank and she stumbled again.

The guards exchanged looks before nodding to one another. "The Teyrn has the other Grey Warden in custody already," The one guard said casually and Elena felt her heart leap in her chest. Alistair! "Bring her in," They moved aside and pushed the doors open and Tomas shoved Elena inside.

Two more guards stood outside a door at the opposite end of the room and Tomas moved her forward and she struggled against him just for a good effect. The men raised their eyebrows as the pair approached.

"I have brought in the other Grey Warden," The men looked surprised and one reached for Elena but she brought her hands up and caught him in the face, causing him to stumble backwards. He clutched at his nose as his comrade drew his sword, but Tomas was quicker and drove his blade deep into the man's gut and twisted the blade before yanking it back out and stepping away from the small puddle of blood forming on the floor as he collapsed.

Elena had worked her hands free and grabbed the dagger sheathed at her hip, drawing it across the other man's throat as he lunged at her. His eyes were wide as he staggered back once more, clawing and clutching at his throat helplessly as blood leaked from the gash. He slid down against the wall before slumping down on the floor, his hands falling to his sides and his head leaned forward.

She felt no guilt; no remorse for killing those men and she could see that Tomas felt the same.

"The Landsmeet has begun. I can hear Loghain," He said, nodding towards the door.

Elena hesitated. She had no idea what she would find on the other side of that door. Loghain had an army of men behind him and a dozen supporters on top of that. She was only one person; surely she wouldn't get very far.

"_Have faith in yourself, Pup, as I have faith in you,"_ Her father's words returned to her and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. She was a Cousland and the courage of a Cousland ran deep. Regardless of the outcome she couldn't back down. Alistair was counting on her. They were all counting on her. To see his face was all she needed.

All pain in her body was forgotten as she removed the bow from her back and readied an arrow, listening to her own breathing as she struggled to steady it. Her hands trembled with anticipation and she stole a glance at Tomas.

"I am not afraid of dying as long as I can show them the truth. I just want Loghain dead," He was calm and composed and for a moment she envied him.

Her mouth was dry and she glared heavily at the doors of the Landsmeet Chamber. She extended a hand, took another steadying breath and forced the doors open with a rough shove. There was no backing down now.


	8. Chapter 8

The echo of voices in the room pulled him back to consciousness and he listened before bothering to open his eyes. He was acutely aware of the cold steel blade pressed against his neck and the strong hands gripping his shoulder. He was upright and his knees ached from the unforgiving stone floor beneath. He was in the Landsmeet Chamber.

Alistair opened his eyes and blinked against the blinding bright light. His head was throbbing and he had a sudden urge to double over and empty his stomach onto the floor from the piercing pain forming behind his eyes, but he inhaled deeply through his nose and closed his eyes again to settle his churning stomach.

He ground his teeth together and set his jaw as he forced his eyes open and glanced around the vast room. Banners were draped from every surface and he was surprised at the vastness of the chamber, itself. He was expecting something smaller, to be honest.

"Nice to see you're awake," He jumped at the closeness of the voice and turned his head sharply to look over at Zevran. His right eye was turning a hideous purple-blue color, but he smiled wryly all the same. Behind him, Leliana and Wynne were slumped against the wall while Sten sat off to the side, surrounded by four armed men. They were all bound by hands and feet, but Alistair seemed to be the only one with a blade trained on his throat.

"Nice to see you're alive," Alistair grumbled. The soldier holding him tightened his grip on his shoulder and gave him a rough shake in an indication that he was to remain silent.

Alistair narrowed his eyes and watched as Loghain moved to stand in the center of the room.

"I figured you had your hands in this, Eamon," He called, his dark eyes resting on Eamon.

"It's time for you to step down, Loghain," Eamon called from his place in the balcony.

"Step down?" Loghain asked incredulously. "You wish for me to step down when Ferelden is in such turmoil? You've lost your mind, Eamon. We must protect Ferelden and we must do that on our own. We need no aid from anyone. We have done it once, we can do it again," Several people let out shouts of agreement and the agitation was evident on Eamon's face.

"Do you care nothing about the Blight? There will be no Ferelden if nothing is done. We need the Grey Wardens to—"

"Ah," Loghain gave a dark smile. "The precious Grey Wardens. The same Grey Wardens that failed us at Ostagar. That murdered King Cailan!" He paused dramatically. "You would trust them with your lives?" No one breathed a word and Loghain nodded. "I will have justice brought to Ferelden," He turned and crossed the chamber to stand before Alistair and the solider and yanked the blade from the man's hand, forcing him back so he could take his spot.

A gasp rippled throughout the crowd. Loghain was about to execute a man before their very eyes.

"Where were your Grey Wardens when the Darkspawn destroyed your homes?" He bellowed. "Where were they when you needed them the most? They were out gathering treaties for their Blight," He nearly spat the word. "This is no true Blight. This is an invasion of Darkspawn and an overreaction of men," He added coolly. "Your precious Grey Wardens aren't needed."

He positioned the blade beneath Alistair's throat and dug the tip of the blade into his flesh and Alistair sucked in a deep breath as a drop of blood oozed out and trailed down his neck. Loghain would slit his throat and no one could stop him.

His eyes moved to Eamon and he could see the horror and disgust in his face. Not even Eamon could stop Loghain.

The pressure behind the blade grew and the tip dug in deeper and more blood oozed from the small puncture wound and Alistair could feel Loghain's hand trembling. The man was too far gone to turn back now and Alistair pressed his lips into a thin line as Loghain grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back to expose more of his throat.

"I have waited so long for this," The man hissed and Alistair closed his eyes, thinking only of Elena. He would never be able to see her again and that frightened him more than death. All the things left unsaid would haunt him far into the afterlife.

"You will fall," Alistair said confidently. "Killing me will not put an end to the Grey Wardens," He reminded him.

"You remain confident even when death is staring you in the face," Loghain said with a shake of his head as he yanked Alistair's head back even further.

"Loghain, stop this madness!" Eamon's voice broke through the hushes silence and his eyes burned. "You will go as far as to kill an innocent man for your own gain?"

"Innocent? You think this man innocent? This man killed King Cailan and your comrades. This man abandoned Ferelden."

Several heads snapped up as the doors to the Landsmeet Chamber burst open and two women screamed in unison.

"Drop your weapon, Loghain, or I'll lodge my arrow in your skull."

"Elena!" Leliana was the one that cried out the young woman's name and Alistair blinked several times, wondering if he eyes were betraying him or if he was already dead. The trembling in Loghain's hand increased and he decided that he was most certainly not dead and that his eyes were just fine.

She stood framed in the large doorway and a man stood just behind her, his sword at the ready as he surveyed the room, his eyes burning holes through Loghain and the loathing was evident on his face.

He had been hoping for days that he would see her face again and that he would be able to touch her, just once. But he hadn't expected it to happen like this. He owed her his life now because he had a good feeling that Loghain would not accomplish executing him when Elena had her arrows trained on him. However, for the one arrow she had on Loghain, twelve were trained on her, ready to be released at a single command. He felt his heart sink. They could all die here.

Eamon readied the two guards he had with him and they disappeared from the balcony and slipped unnoticed by anyone but Alistair to hide in the shadows, awaiting orders to attack if necessary. The tension was palpable and he could taste it in the air.

"So…you survived," Loghain sounded disappointed and Elena took a step forward, wincing as she did so. "Barely, I see," His disappointment switched to amusement almost immediately and she set her jaw.

"I'm able to kill you and that's all I ask for," She said evenly, her fingers itching to release the tension in her bow and let her arrow soar straight for the spot between his eyes.


End file.
